From the Heart
by awilystar
Summary: In a moment of selfishness, she says the only thing she can think of that can bring the old Booth back.  Speculation based on the promo for The Doctor in the Photo.  Booth/Brennan.
1. Chapter 1:  From the Heart

**Chapter 1: From the Heart**

**A/N: **The title is from the song of the same name by X-ray Dog. I urge you to check it out if you haven't heard it before. This is based on the promo for next week's episode, The Doctor in the Photo. Just a little something I had to get out for my own sake. I will most likely keep this as a one-shot, but I may add to it, depending on how this scene actually plays out in canon. That's my explanation for the relatively open ending. Please let me know what you think - good things, bad things, rants about Booth, rants about Brennan, rants about Hannah. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!

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That first tear is the metaphorical straw that breaks the camel's back, and once it falls, she can't stop.

She is sitting in the passenger's seat of the SUV, soaked through to her underwear with icy winter rain. Her teeth are chattering and her hair is plastered to her head, and she feels so miserable and confused and alone that she simply needs to cry. She doesn't care that Booth slows his speed infinitesimally and glances over at her, and for once, she doesn't want to hear his usual question (_Are you okay, Bones?_), because she isn't okay and she's afraid of what she'll say if he asks her. He must know this, because he simply turns back to the road and lets her cry, which only results in the tears falling faster and the beginning of gut-wrenching sobs that she is powerless to control.

The old Booth, before Afghanistan and Maluku and a new girlfriend, would have stopped the car immediately, pulled to the side of the road and done just the right thing to make everything okay again. The old Booth, well… the old Booth loved her, and in a moment of selfishness, she says the only thing that comes to mind, the only thing she can think of that can bring the old Booth back. She wants him for just a moment, and then she'll give him back to Hannah, and she knows it's dangerous, stupid, every synonym under the sun, but the words come out uncensored, "I made a mistake, I missed my chance," and _this_ makes his eyes snap to hers and the SUV swerve dangerously left of center before coming to an abrupt stop.

Rain pings off the roof, and the engine roars steadily in the background, but the silence between them is stifling. She knows she should say something else, renege her confession with an awkwardly misplaced joke that will annoy him, but there are still tears rolling down her cheeks, and she is simply too tired to pretend right now. Booth clears his throat, and she can see the whiteness of his knuckles as he clenches his hands around the steering wheel. "Bones…" he murmurs to her, and her nickname still falls as sweetly as ever on her ears. "You can't stay stuff like that to me, it isn't fair." He won't look at her, is still tense, and she watches as her hand rises of its own accord and reaches across the console to rest lightly on his arm.

"Booth, I know. Okay? I know." There is something ironic about her choice of words, an echo of months ago and another confession without a happy ending. "I'm not asking for another one. I just…" She fumbles for an apology, but he shocks her speechless when he sighs and places his left hand over hers that still grasps his forearm.

"I… I still believe in fate, Temperance." The cadence of his voice washes over her like a physical caress, and she is suddenly so, so tired that all she can do is spread her fingers until they slide naturally between his. She squeezes him tenderly, brushes the lingering moisture from her face with the sleeve of her jacket, and closes her eyes as she lies back against her seat.

"Can you take me home? Please."

As he nods and pulls back into traffic, Booth lifts her hand to his mouth and brushes a gentle kiss over her knuckles. This small connection, this acknowledgment that he _cares, _it warms her and gives her hope, makes her take a deep breath and relax. There are things that need to be said, but the case is still unsolved, Booth is still with Hannah, and she is still so, so afraid of putting her heart into overdrive, even for him. Tonight, though, it is enough that they are honest and together and honestly together for the first time in months.


	2. Chapter 2:  Eden Voyage

**Chapter 2: Eden Voyage**

**A/N: **Okay, so I lied. Not a one-shot. I can't help it, I found the muse and want to see where this can go before canon ruins it. I have a rough idea of where it's going, maybe, almost... okay, I have no idea. But here's the second part! On another note, I feel as though some serious healing (whether it be after this supposed confession or after Hannah's departure), both between and within these two characters will have to happen before they have any chance at successfully being together. This part is my attempt to start Brennan's road to recovery, per se. The title of this chapter, Eden Voyage, is another song by the amazing X-Ray Dog. Listen to it, it's beautiful! Thank you for the lovely reviews, I encourage you to leave your thoughts about this as well.

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It takes them another week and a half to solve the case. The details are unimportant, and a part of her feels guilty that she is so relieved to be laying the doctor to rest on this rainy Thursday afternoon. Booth stands by her side, with Hannah on his other, and across from them, Cam, Angela, and Jack look appropriately somber as the casket is lowered into the ground.

She doesn't realize that she's shaking until Booth glances over at her and murmurs, "Bones, you okay?" under his breath. This reminder of his presence calms her, and she takes a deep, shaky breath, and when she exhales, some of the sorrow and grief for the woman she'd never known abates. What she wants to do is damn her renewed composure, and in her mind, she does. In her mind, she turns blindly to Booth, buries her face in his neck and cries like she had that night in his SUV. In her mind, Hannah watches quietly as Booth comforts _her_, picks _her_, his partner, over his live-in girlfriend.

Instead, she swallows her tears and crosses her arms, nodding soundlessly. As the priest speaks the last blessings, the nightmare is finally, finally over, and she feels like she can breathe again for the first time since opening the doctor's case file. One by one, her friends begin to leave. Cam first, saying something about Michelle and motherly duties and how she doesn't expect to see her at work tomorrow, take the long weekend. Jack and Angela are next, and her best friend gives her a bone-crushing hug and an _I love you, sweetie_. She is surprised when Hannah hesitates, and the invitation of, "Temperance, would you like to join us for dinner?" takes her completely off guard. With a sidelong glimpse at Booth, she agrees, startling both herself and him.

They go to the Royal Diner, where else? Even if everything else has changed, the diner remains the same, and this small constant comforts her. She finds herself seated next to Booth, across from Hannah, and she picks at her salad and watches as the latter grab French fries from the former's plate. It crushes her heart, how easily Booth seems to have filled her place in his life, but she realizes that she can't have it both ways. It's not fair to him.

Their conversation is mostly of Booth, the common denominator. When Hannah mentions the visit they have planned to the nursing home this weekend to see Hank, she flicks her eyes to Booth's as if needing confirmation. He nods, and she's glad that Hannah is digging in her purse for the tip and doesn't see the guilty look on his face. "Tell him I say hello," she replies, picking at her fingernail and wishing that she weren't trapped between Booth and the window.

Soon, the waitress picks up the bill and wishes them a good day, and they part ways. She has her car door halfway open when she senses him behind her. She doesn't turn around and he doesn't say anything, but his fingers slide over her elbow she can feel their heat even through her jacket.

"What do you want, Booth?"

Once upon a time, she would have pushed him away. She would have rebuilt her walls and forced him out of her life, before he could decide that he didn't want her in any part of his. But she's coming to learn that she has, in fact, changed. He's still her friend, and she has promised herself that no matter what, she'll still be his. She turns, doing her best to summon a smile in an attempt to lessen the unintentional harshness of her words. It must work, because he relaxes and his hand squeezes her elbow. "Just making sure you're really okay," he says, and his concern makes her smile genuine.

"I will be." He lets her go, satisfied, and she climbs into her car. As she starts up the engine, he taps on the window, and she rolls it down to oblige him to let her go home. "What now?" It's been a long day.

Ducking down, he is serious when he asks her, "I'll see you Monday, won't I?"

This reminds her of another long day, where she'd ridden away in a cab following the same question, not entirely sure if he would see her after the weekend. She realizes then how much that must have hurt him, watching her leave, and she is equally as serious when she replies, "Of course. See you Monday, partner," before backing out of her parking spot.

In her rear-view mirror, she watches as Hannah appears behind him and wraps her arms around his waist, rests her chin on his shoulder. He'd still been following her car with his gaze, but at the other woman's touch, he looks toward her and the tension leaves his body. Hannah makes him happy, and it is hard to hate anything or anyone that brings him joy.

He has moved on, and as she turns the corner, she promises herself that she will, too.


	3. Chapter 3:  The Vision

**Chapter 3: The Vision**

**A/N: **Part 3, for your reading pleasure! I'll say from now on, assume the chapter titles are based on X-Ray Dog songs, and go listen to them on YouTube. Thank you for all the alerts and reviews, I really appreciate them. I've been out of the game for a while, and it's nice to know my writing is still interesting. Now, enjoy this part!

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On Monday after work, where she'd seen Booth only briefly to go over paperwork, she stops at the pound and adopts a German Shepherd mix named Otto. She's been considering it ever since the dog fighting case from a year or two ago, and she still has the things she'd purchased for Ripley in the closet of her spare bedroom. Otto is a handsome dog, with the same reassuring brown eyes, and it doesn't even bother her that he slobbers all over the dashboard on the way to her apartment. She figures they look a tad ridiculous – her car is compact, and Otto certainly isn't. She opens the window for him, even though it's the middle of December, and he bites at the snow as it flies by his face. This makes her laugh, and she ruffles his fur she turns into her building lot.

As Otto explores his new abode, she skims through her mail and contemplates what to make for dinner. She's ransacking through the fridge and sipping a glass of wine, the dog flopped half off the couch (he can get away with it now, on his first day home), when there is a knock on the door. She opens her mouth to quiet Otto, expecting a bark, but he simply cocks an ear in the direction of the noise and goes back to snoring on her pillows. Shaking her head, she finds Booth standing in her hallway, holding one of the case files they'd been working on earlier and a bag of Thai takeout. "You forgot to sign something. I brought dinner," he announces, not waiting for her to invite him in.

It feels like the old times again, when he'd show up without warning or reason to spend an evening with her. "Where's Hannah?" She isn't trying to be facetious, but it had been months since they'd shared a meal alone. Booth replies that his girlfriend is working late, and though she feels like his second choice just for a moment, she pushes that thought aside. He is smiling, he seems like his old self, and she helps him unpack the food and opens him a beer. She had bought a six pack of his favorite brand the first time she went to the store after returning from Maluku, and there are still four bottles left. This is proof of his infrequent presence in her life as of late, but it doesn't bother her. He's here now, and _this_, a beer or two or three with his best friend, she can give him.

They carry their plates into the living room to eat, and Otto, senses tickled by the delicious aromas, lifts his head and turns his nose hopefully in their direction. "Bones, is that a _dog_?" She ignores Booth for the moment, shooing the Shepherd from the couch so they can sit. Though disinclined to give up his comfy nest, Otto obeys and refocuses his attentions on Booth, greeting him with a wagging tail and friendly eyes.

"Yes. His name is Otto." After he receives his introductory pat on the head, she sends him to his bed in the corner of the room so that she and Booth can eat in peace. They sit side by side, shoulders nearly touching, and she's finished almost half of her plate before he speaks again.

"Do you want to talk about it?" For once, she recognizes the layers behind his question. She wants to talk about neither her emotional outburst a few days ago nor the awkward lunch they'd shared on Thursday. Tonight, she just wants to be with him. She wants to ask him about his son, his football team, to catch up on the mundane details of his life that she's been missing. But she also recognizes his ability to _get_ her to talk no matter what she wants, and so she settles on an answer that should satisfy him and keep him from pushing her further.

"I'm going to start living wide, Booth. I've always wanted a dog, so I got a dog. I'm taking Hayley and Emma ice skating, though I'm quite terrible at it." They smile, recalling the night they'd stayed up to glide around the empty rink. If only she had remembered her own words to him, that entropy is natural, that everything changes, when he had asked her to take a chance. "This has nothing to do with the case and, it certainly has nothing to do with you, so no, I don't want to talk about it." Almost immediately, she regrets her bluntness, for it puts that sucker-punched look on Booth's face for a moment, and she hadn't meant to sound so dismissive of his concern.

Maybe she is not okay, but it's not his job to fix her, not anymore. She's sick of the two words that would lessen her unintentional blow, _I'm sorry_, so she puts her metaphorical heart into overdrive and rests her head against his shoulder. He wavers, but then she feels his cheek fall to her hair. "This is how I'm trying to be okay." This is how she's trying to move on, though with him in her home, deep in her heart, it isn't easy, and suddenly, she gets it.

She _gets_ it, and her anger and frustration with Booth seem to fade with this epiphany. She knows now, knows the way it aches to be alone, to want something so much and have it be unattainable. And she understands – he moves on and gets a girlfriend, but she starts smaller. She gets a dog, a faithful companion that promises to bring happiness to her life, a friend to help her through the dark days.

She is still pondering the strange analogy of girlfriend to dog when the latter's whine comes from the direction of the door. After a deep breath, consisting of the pleasing mixture of Booth's cologne and uneaten Thai food, she stands, and he doesn't stop her. Stacking their plates on the coffee table, she feels his eyes on her back. "I can clean up in here, if you need to take him out," he offers.

She straightens, shrugs her shoulders. For now, the mess can wait. "Leave it. Come with me?" Not waiting for his reply, she heads for Otto, snagging his leash and her coat from their respective hooks. Booth follows, and as she slides her winter jacket on, he pulls her hair gently from beneath the upturned collar. This normalcy is soothing and prompts her to wonder if perhaps Parker would like to interact with Otto. "He seems like the kind of boy that would enjoy canine companionship." The dog in question is sitting patiently at their feet with aplomb, tongue lolling.

"Bones, he already thinks you're the coolest." This warms her, because she's never been 'the coolest' to anyone before. "If I tell him you have a dog, I'll never get him away from you." His offhand statement brings images to her mind, images of Booth's son and her dog, the four of them at the park on a Sunday afternoon, a ragtag family, and they make her smile.

"It's alright, I don't mind. I love Parker." It's true, and she has always been an advocate of the truth.

Booth takes Otto's leash from her and clips the dog to the end, and the trio makes its way into the hall. They are halfway down the stairs before he bumps her shoulder with his, like he used to sometimes when they'd walked too close together, and says, "He loves you, too." She's never been good with subtext, but she reads _something_ deeper than Parker's returned affections.

It's cold outside, and snow falling in large, wet flakes that stick to their eyelashes. The night is peaceful, and in the guise of treacherous sidewalks, she slips her arm through his. He flashes her a grin, they laugh together at Otto's frolicking, and rather than staying bitter over missed chances, she vows to be ready if, someday, another one comes along.

After all, Booth says he still believes in fate, and, despite everything, she still believes in him.

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**A/N: **To tell you the truth, I wasn't expecting Otto, but hey, who would object to seeing Brennan with a dog? Plus, I miss my dog and fully believe in the healing powers of animals!**  
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	4. Chapter 4:  Breathing Space

**Chapter 4: Breathing Space**

**A/N: **Here's the next chapter for your reading pleasure. Thanks for all of the feedback, review, favorites, alerts, etc. so far. As always, leave me a thought or two and tell me what you think, and I hope you enjoy this!

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She and Hannah go out for drinks the following Friday.

It is Booth's weekend with his son, and his girlfriend kindly gives them an evening to themselves to do, as the blond had put it, guy things. She isn't completely sure what exactly the colloquialism implies, for Parker is too young to share in the drinking of alcohol and discussion of sexual conquests, but she surmises some sort of sporting event will be involved. Despite the obviously glaring reasons she has not to, she's found that she likes Hannah, and so she agrees to a long ago suggested girls' night out. She thinks, for a fleeting moment, that Booth, in an effort to ensure that she wouldn't spend her evening alone, may have asked his girlfriend to invite her, but Hannah's smile as she holds open the door to the Founding Fathers is genuine, and she pushes the thought from her mind.

Booth's girlfriend has never been anything but nice to her. She is strong and independent, fearlessly dedicated to her job, and they have these things in common. But there is a certain restlessness about the other woman, an edginess to her personality that speaks of discontent with remaining static. It was this familiar recognition – she sees in herself sometimes, too, though not so much as of late – that had led to her first confrontation with Hannah, where she'd questioned the journalist's commitment to her relationship. Subsequent observations have given her no reason to doubt Hannah's reassurance that she is serious about Booth, and so she accepts this as status quo and orders a scotch on the rocks from the bartender.

"That's Seeley's drink." Hannah tilts her head to the glass in her hand, and her fingers tighten imperceptibly around the tumbler. "A result of spending so much time together?" There is no accusation or suspicion in the other woman's tone, simply wondering and curiosity. However, a rush of guilt flows through her quite suddenly. If only Hannah knew her real reasons for ordering Booth's favorite. She doesn't particularly like scotch, much prefers a glass of red wine, but it reminds her of Booth, more specifically, of how his kisses had tasted.

"You could say that," she murmurs, turning away, afraid her memories will read plainly on her face.

For an hour or so, the two chat about nothing substantial. It's less painful to be around Hannah when she isn't around Booth as well, and surprisingly, they only mention him once or twice in passing. They share travel anecdotes but stay clear of anything too personal. When Hannah gets up to use the restroom, her vacated seat is filled not ten seconds later by a man. He smiles at her and introduces himself as Jake, offers to buy her another drink, and she replies by saying, "For your own sake, I highly advise against that." She sighs and finishes the last swallow of her scotch, willing Hannah to reappear.

He is persistent though. "What exactly don't you want, the free drink or the buyer of said drink?" She recognizes that he is teasing, flirting even, and she gives him a small smile and shakes her head, determined to deter his advances. The problem is, she finds him rather striking. Dark hair and light eyes, most likely a good few inches taller than she and well-muscled, he is pleasing to look at. She doesn't know what he wants, but all she could give him at best would be a one-night stand. The problem is, she's never been unfaithful, and it would feel like cheating, because she's in love with somebody else.

"Look, Jake," she sighs. "I think your features are symmetrical, and from what I can see, it appears that the ratio of the width of your shoulders to your hips approximates the golden ratio. However, I can infer that your offer of a free drink means that you're either interested in sex or a relationship, neither of which I advise you to partake in with me." Right about now, she wishes she _had_ that drink, because she truly feels bad for way his shoulders slump a bit with her rejection.

His expression is rueful as he stands, and she watches him go. When he is just a few paces away, he turns back and catches her gaze, and she remembers that sometimes, people still have the power to surprise her. "One to one-point-six-one-eight." The golden ratio. "I think you're beautiful, too." He flashes her a grin, and for the first time in a long time, she actually _feels_ beautiful, feels like it's okay for a man to notice that she is. She wants to stop him, let him buy her that drink, but he reaches the door before she finds the words.

"Who was that?" Hannah slips back into her seat, and she knows the other woman had been watching, not wanting to interrupt. Her attention pulled away from the man who'd departed, she shrugs. It unsettles her, how for the span of their conversation, she'd almost forgotten who she was here with and why.

"Nobody."

"You should call him." She's confused, turns to Hannah to tell her that she couldn't even if she wanted to, that he hadn't left her his number. The blond is holding up a slip of paper between two fingers, and she can just make out the edges of the first three digits. Well, apparently he'd eluded her usually razor-sharp observational skills. She takes the paper, reads his name and number, and folds it once before sliding it into her jacket pocket. She tell herself she does this merely to appease Hannah, to avoid the awkward questions on reasons why she, a single, attractive woman, would refuse the advances of a clearly interested and, at least upon first glance, reasonably acceptable man.

The truth is, a large part of her, the part that just wants to be _okay_ again, is considering it.

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**A/N: **Remember that in my little world of fanfic, Booth and Brennan _will_ end up together in the end. How exactly I'm going to get them there… well, you and I both have to wonder. That aside, I think it's plausible that Brennan could get some romantic interest of her own while Hannah's still around, while she's trying to move on. My goal is to have him be likable and perfect for Brennan in every way (except that he's not Booth, of course). Oh, and Otto will be back next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5:  Reverie

**Chapter 5: Reverie**

**A/N: **Sorry for the wait. It's finals week of my first semester in grad school, and the thought of starting my take-home neurobiology final scares me so much that you're getting a chapter. This part has Brennan, Otto, and our favorite Booths out for a fun Saturday afternoon. It's a bit short, I apologize, but that was the natural stopping point. As always, leave a thought or two, and I hope you enjoy!

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She spends the next afternoon with the Booth boys and Otto. Though the air is nippy and nearly a half foot of snow is on the ground, the sun is shining and there are a fair number of people enjoying the day. They walk to keep warm, she and Booth some distance behind the more eager Parker and Otto. She had been right about the bond between boy and dog. Ever since relinquishing the leash to the eager ten-year-old a block from her apartment, the two had been inseparable. She watches as Parker pauses, tossing a snowball straight up for Otto to catch. The dog acts like it is the best game in the world, tail fervently wagging even as he misses and the snow splatters on his nose.

Glancing sideways at Booth, she finds him smiling, though his face wears a wistful look. She knows what he's thinking, as he looks at his son, whose antics with Otto have drawn the attention of a pretty young girl in a purple hat. "He's growing up," she says quietly.

Booth replies with a sigh and a nod. "Yeah." She's searching for the proper words for the situation, but he surprises her when he blurts, "Hannah, she doesn't want to have kids." Pretty sure that this is a conversation that she isn't qualified to be having, she desperately flounders for some response that will quickly end it, preferably something that will take the melancholy from his eyes.

"Oh," is all she can come up with, and it sounds forced, even to her usually oblivious ears. She thinks back to what seems like forever ago, to a time where she'd been the one at the other end of his thoughts about future offspring, to a time with brain tumors and amnesia. She wants to say I'm sorry, tell him that he'll always have Parker to be proud of, but his son chooses then to return, face flushed with excitement, towing a bedraggled Otto behind him.

"Dad! Bones!" Parker is beaming, and he looks so much like Booth when he's grinning like that that it makes her heart clench in her chest. "She kissed me! Right here!" He points to his cheek, and his enthusiasm is so contagious that she laughs along with him, ignoring Booth's bugging eyes.

"Of course she did. You're quite handsome." She smiles and, beginning to feel the chill of the wind, points him in the direction of home with instructions not to go too far ahead. Satisfied, Parker bounds off with the dog, leaving her alone with his father once again. "There's nothing to worry about, Booth. I had my first _real_ kiss at age twelve, so I conclude that it's normal for him to soon begin displaying interest in the opposite sex." She isn't sure whether this statement is mean to comfort him or not, but when he looks at her incredulously and shakes his head, she knows she's at least distracted him.

"Twelve, Bones?" His eyes are twinkling, and his grin is so big that she expects his next words to be teasing. "You, who didn't sleep with a man until you were _twenty-two_?" She isn't disappointed, and answers as expected, with some remark about her bedmate's prowess and experience. This, of course, embarrasses him, and they fall into easy bickering all the way back to her apartment.

It comforts her, that after everything they've been through, they can still be so _normal. _


	6. Chapter 6:  The Journey

**Chapter 6: The Journey**

**A/N:** A quick update this time, and much longer. I'm not quite sure how I feel about this part, so tell me what you think. I feel as though the feelings Brennan has for Booth (and vice versa) will always be there, hovering between them despite who they're seeing or not seeing, and I wanted to touch on that a bit with this chapter. I'm behind on review replies, but I appreciate the interest and encourage feedback!

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They pile through her front door, shedding layers of snow-dampened clothes as they go. A quick glance at the kitchen clock reveals that it's nearly five-thirty, and she realizes that she had perhaps stalled too long. Last night, after parting ways with Hannah, she'd surprised both herself and Jake when she'd yielded and dialed the numbers on the paper he'd left for her. When he'd answered and she'd said her name, he'd been confused and she'd remembered that she hadn't actually gotten around to relaxing enough to introduce herself to him. After she had awkwardly revealed herself as the woman from the bar, he'd agreed to her invitation to go out. He'd made no comment about her apparently sudden change of heart, had simply told her to wear something nice and that he'd be by to pick her up for dinner at seven. As she'd hung up the phone, a smidgen of something akin to guilt had crept through her, but she'd pushed it savagely aside. Her going on a date (her first in too long to recall) with a handsome, intriguing man wouldn't change anything about her non-situation with Booth.

Unraveling her scarf and hanging it on its proper hook, she turns to her houseguests, wondering at the proper way to subtly hint that they should not get too comfortable. Parker, however, is halfway across the living room, reaching for his backpack. "Bones, Dad and I are going to use your pool, okay?" Before either she or Booth can protest, he chucks a garish looking pair of swim trunks to his father and disappears to change.

She glances at Booth and shrugs, silencing his protest that they are intruding. There is still an hour and a half before she should expect Jake, and there is no harm in letting them swim while she prepares herself for a date that she hasn't gotten around to telling Booth about yet. "You know where the towels are. I'm going to shower." She heads back to her bedroom, Booth and Otto hot on her heels, and they meet Parker in the hallway. At Parker's prodding that his father and Bones hurry up and get ready, she tells the boy that she won't be joining them.

"Why not, Bones? It's your pool, you _have_ to come." Booth looks like he agrees with his son, and she sighs and relents. She explains to Parker that she's meeting a friend for dinner and has to get ready, but that he can still go swimming, even if she isn't there. This seems to satisfy him, and he announces to his father that he'll meet him poolside. With Parker's exit, she finds herself abruptly alone with Booth, but she ignores this fact and enters her room, leaving him leaning against the doorframe.

Booth is watching her, more closely than he has in months, and it makes her nervous. Desperate not to have this discussion with him, she pretends he isn't there and putters about, removing the sweater, long-sleeved shirt, and two pairs of socks she'd donned for their earlier walk. With each garment she tosses on her bed, she feels more and more of that _normal_ from earlier disappear.

She's down to jeans and a camisole, contemplating stripping further just to get him to stop staring (he would, wouldn't he, with his Puritan modesty and his significant other?), when he finally speaks. "So who's the guy?" His arms are crossed, the swim trunks flung over his shoulder, Otto sitting happily at his feet, and she can't summon the energy to deflect his inquiry.

"Jake. Your girlfriend approved of him." She plays the Hannah card, knowing full well that if the journalist hadn't gotten news of a weekend assignment, he'd be home with her instead of instigating this ridiculous interrogation. Booth looks like he wants to say something, and so she waits, crossing her arms in imitation of his posture, but he just shakes his head and sighs. "You should change. Parker will be wondering where you are." She's right, and he knows it.

Without another word, she turns hastily to the en suite bathroom, Otto following behind. She's learned that the dog likes to tag along, no matter what she's doing, and the bathmat in front of her shower is already covered with his dark hair. She leaves the door ajar by habit and turns on the water, discarding the rest of her clothes as the stream warms. When the temperature is to her liking, she pushes Otto, his tongue lapping hopefully at the stray droplets, out of her way and climbs in.

A few minutes later, Booth knuckle raps twice and pokes his head into the bathroom. "Hey Bones?" His voice is muffled by the water, but she hears him and replies with a noncommittal query. "When will he be here?" She washes the shampoo out of her hair before sliding the shower door open a crack and stifling a chortle at the sight of Booth, eyes courteously covered with his hand.

"It's okay, Booth. The glass is frosted." He drops his hand and she smiles, carefully reminding herself not to remind _him_ of the time she'd barged in on his bath and seen him naked. "He's picking me up at seven." It's almost amusing to her, how she's talking about her date while in the shower, with only an opaque glass panel and a half-asleep dog between her naked body and Booth's gaze. Having passed on the requested information, she retreats to finish bathing, efficiently compartmentalizing her response to her previous thought.

"Parker and I, we'll be out of your hair by then," he says, and she hears the click of the bathroom door when he closes it behind him.

She conditions, washes, and shaves, taking her time to pamper herself for once. Her hair, after she blows it dry, is curled and pinned up, bangs swept aside and secured similarly. Makeup is next, and she channels Angela when she decides on her lipstick (its color is 'Naked Paris') and smoky eyes. She waits to put on the dress she'd had in mind since talking to Jake last night – it's beautiful, an ivory chiffon that skims her knees – and she's just pulling the zipper up past the small of her back when the sound of Booth and Parker's return reaches her ears.

Parker is laughing as his father urges him down the hall, half-heartedly scolding him for dripping on her floor. She slides her feet into her heels, fastens her earrings, looks at the clock (twenty 'til seven), and pushes open her bedroom door to the sight of two very wet Booths who are, in fact, dripping on her carpet where they stand, agog at her sudden appearance. "Wow, you look_ awesome_!" Parker compliments, grinning.

"Hey bud, stop ogling Bones," Booth teases, slapping his son good-humoredly on the back of the head. "What's your new girl gonna think, huh?" Though he references Parker's friend from the park, her eyes widen infinitesimally, and when he notices this (he always does, doesn't he?), she is well aware that he wishes he could metaphorically put his foot in his mouth. She feels more naked under his perusing stare now that she had earlier, when she'd been literally naked in the shower, but she smooths the feeling over with a courteous thanks for Parker's accolade.

Even though everything has changed, she still finds him very well-structured, and so she bravely returns his look, simple self-preservation and stubbornness preventing her from fleeing like she so desperately wants to. Here, in her house, in the doorway of her bedroom, there is nobody to call her on it, and she's sure _he_ won't tell his girlfriend that she's eyeballing him in his swim trunks.

He backs down first, of _course_ he does, and effortlessly agrees with Parker. "He's right though, Bones. You look beautiful." She almost corrects him, tells him that he'd switched out Parker's last word, that _awesome_ and _beautiful_ are completely unrelated, but she doesn't want to open that box (can?) of worms right now. There are less than twenty minutes until her date is due to arrive, her date with many good assets, single and uncomplicated being among said assets, and she's going to enjoy him.

"Thank you, Booth."

She _will_ have a good time.

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**A/N: **Up next, Brennan and Jake's date. Oh, and a link to Brennan's dress can be found in my profile. I think it's absolutely gorgeous, and Emily Deschanel would look ravishing in it!


	7. Chapter 7:  Acts of Courage

**Chapter 7: Acts of Courage**

**A/N: **This was both very difficult and surprisingly easy for me to write, which concerns me, haha. I urge you to keep an open mind while reading this chapter, as it involves Brennan/OC, however temporary it may end up being. Let me know what you think of my attempt at handling it! Thanks for all the reviews, I truly, truly appreciate the response.

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Ten minutes after Booth and Parker leave, she opens the door to her date. She greets him with a smile and stands a little straighter as his eyes sweep over her body. It pleases her that he arrives empty-handed, for she has no interest in first date clichés such as flowers or chocolates. Jake helps her on with her jacket, and she doesn't mind when his hands linger on her shoulders for a fraction of a moment. He smells good so close to her, and his eyes twinkle as he grins and asks her if she's ready. They have a reservation for 7:30, and the restaurant is a short drive away.

Their conversation flows easily. Jake is charming and eloquent, as wonderful to talk to as he is to look at. She learns he holds degrees in both math and history, and it surprises her when he tells her that he's been a D.C. fireman for the past nine years. He recounts stories of the men and women in his house, speaks of them as though they are close family, which makes something warm settle in her belly. She wonders if their paths have ever crossed before, at one crime scene or another, and muses on moments and fate and second chances.

He's never read her books, hadn't even heard of them until she had mentioned her writing in passing, and rather than being offended, she's relieved at the respite from undeserved praise of her work. When she begins to inevitably lecture on forensic anthropology, he doesn't roll his eyes. He listens, asks her questions every now and then, and she almost leans across the candlelit table and kisses him for simply caring. Booth's name comes up once or twice, but she skims over the stories of the two of them and the work they do together.

Their bottle of wine is two-thirds finished when he says, "There's something you should know, T." He sounds serious, so she lets the sobriquet slide and tilts her head, encouraging him to continue. "You're the first woman I've been out with in almost two years." He looks a bit embarrassed, a bit distressed, and maybe it's the alcohol, but she ignores the Angela in her head telling her to run and lays a hand on his arm.

She catches his eyes, shrugs, and nearly opens her mouth and tells him about her surrogate relationship with her partner. Instead, she wonders, "Why?" and she assumes that it is her bluntness that makes him chuckle and empty his glass in one big swallow.

"That's a story for another date," he replies.

She accepts his answer and doesn't even call him out on his preemptive hypothesis of a subsequent night out. They finish the rest of the wine, and she notices that he takes the long way on the drive back to her apartment, but doesn't comment. When he walks her to her door, she is uncharacteristically quiet and fidgets with the strap of her purse, unsure of how she wants the evening to end. Jake's grip on her elbow is soft as he turns her toward body him, murmuring, "Thank you for a wonderful time." He pushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and before she can reply, he's kissing her.

His lips brush lightly over hers, and her hands rise of their own volition to cradle his face between her palms. She's never been privy to such an innocent and genuine display of affection, but before she can decide whether actively wants to kiss him back or not, he pulls away. She keeps her eyes closed and drops her arms, breathing deeply through her nose, and she feels as though she might shatter here and now, like she had that night in the car with a completely different man.

He is smiling at her, almost sadly, when she finally lifts her gaze to his. "So who did it?" he asks knowingly.

"Did what?" She's confused and suddenly extremely tired.

He sighs, shakes his head, and amends, "Broke your heart."

So much for her insistence that the eyes are incapable of betraying one's emotions.

Before, she would have laughed and brushed his comment off, told him that hearts don't get broken, they get crushed. But that was then and this is now and many, _many_ things are different, so she responds with, "That's a story for another date," before bidding him farewell with the promise that she'll call him soon.


	8. Chapter 8:  Standing Alone

**Chapter 8: Standing Alone**

**A/N: **The holidays got the better of me, I apologize. I wanted to make this chapter longer, but I figured I'd post what I had written for the readers' sake! This skims over Christmas, putting the time line just before New Year's. Please let me know your thoughts, suggestions, criticisms, etc. I hope you enjoy this little part, and more will come as I settle into this semester. For those of you who are curious, I survived my first semester of grad school with a 3.5 GPA!

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The holidays pass quickly and uneventfully. She spends Christmas Eve with her blood family and departs, like usual, on the 25th for a week-long trip by herself. The fact that she has acquired Otto doesn't stop her from her travels – she leaves the dog with Jake, whom he happens to love, and kisses the former goodbye after a brief Christmas morning shared in his apartment. She refuses his offer to drive her to the airport, insisting that a cab will do just fine, and promises to bring him back a souvenir, though she doubts he'll find anything of Argentinean origin particularly interesting.

On the way to Dulles, she fiddles with her phone, waiting until almost the last minute to call Booth. She hasn't spent a Christmas without seeing him in a number of years. This year, though, he'd taken a week and a half's vacation with Hannah and Parker and wouldn't be returning until late the 27th. The phone rings and rings, and she almost hangs up, but he finally answers. Their conversation is brief and to the point, and after exchanged holiday greetings and an inquiry on her part about how he was enjoying Pittsburgh, she bids him farewell.

He catches her before she flips her phone shut. _"Bones?" _He sounds almost unsure of himself, and she hesitates a moment before responding. _"We'll have our Christmas when you get back, alright?"_ This makes her smile like a fool, and she resolutely agrees just as the cab pulls to the drop-off zone.

She spends her time in Argentina working on her next novel and enjoying the sunshine and native cuisine. For once, she doesn't work on remains, and she finds that time passes more slowly. She checks in with Jake three days into the week, and besides a quick call to let Angela know she'd arrived safely, she leaves her phone off in her room during the day. She finds that she's enjoying her vacation, and the distance from D.C. (and the men in her life) gives her a very much needed respite from the thoughts and doubts that had begun to plague her mind as of late.

She likes Jake. To be honest, she likes him quite a lot. He is charming and kind, intelligent enough to leave her alone with her space when she needs it. Her friends love him, and even Booth has refrained from doing a background check, though she is fully aware of the way he looks at Jake when he believes she is otherwise occupied. She thinks that maybe there is a hint of jealousy in his gazes, but if there is, it always passes before she has a chance to analyze it closer. It seems as though they're setting down into their respective relationships, and it's easy to forget the past six years when they hardly spend time alone together outside of work, not since that day in the park with his son and her dog.

Before long, she's ready to return to D.C., and when she lands at a ridiculous hour of the night, bleary-eyed and jet-lagged, she is surprised when her partner, not Jake, calls her name and greets her with a cup of black coffee. "What are you doing here?" she wonders, unable to keep the smile from her face as he pulls her into an awkwardly one-armed embrace.

"Picking you up," he answers. "Angela gave me your flight information." As they walk toward baggage claim, he reveals that while he'd missed her, his immediate presence by her side upon her return to the country is not solely due to that fact.

Those four words, we have a case, both excite her and make her groan inwardly. It seems that she won't have time to adjust, and he relays the details as he drives her to her apartment. She invites him in while she takes fifteen minutes to wash her face, change, and call Jake to let him know that it will be at least a few hours before she can stop by and retrieve Otto. Booth listens to her conversation quietly from his position on the couch, and she gathers her hair into a ponytail and follows him out the door.


	9. Chapter 9:  Dark River

**Chapter 9: Dark River**

**A/N: **I don't usually write case fics, so I've been lax on the details. I'm really only using it as an excuse for the scenario in this chapter, which to be honest, I didn't have planned. The next part is half-written and should be up relatively soon, but for now, enjoy this longer installment! Let me know what you think, as always, and thank you for the feedback.

* * *

This case is one of their most horrifying to date, and what she thought would be only a few hours quickly turns into a few days. There are, in fact, two bodies, one an adult female, the other a young girl, a child of nearly four years. The killer had extracted the teeth, broken the jaws with some weapon of blunt force, and cut off the hands and feet of both victims, leaving her with little to go on in terms of confirmed identification. She's in the lab for two days straight. Facial reconstruction is difficult, and she feels guilty for snapping at Angela in her frustration, but in the end, it is her friend's skill and a hit from CODIS for a missing mother and child that allow her to piece the puzzle together.

When Hodgins gives them a probable murder site based on some rare particulate or another, she and Booth find themselves in The Middle of Nowhere, Virginia, and an hour of careful searching through the surrounding forest leads them to a deserted shack. There is evidence of fresh blood caked onto the hard dirt floor, and the slightly melted snow reveals the muddy ruts of relatively recent tire tracks. This puts Booth on edge, and she agrees that the site requires further investigation at a later time.

There are no suspects, and the probability that the killer has struck again unsettles them both. Hence that night, when they find themselves alone, staking out the shack from a vantage point one hundred yards away in the cold of winter, there is little conversation. She rubs her hands up and down her arms, peering over Booth's shoulder into the darkness.

They stay like this for nearly two hours. She's chilled to the bone, exhausted from delayed jet-lag and continual shivering, when he speaks, the sudden sound of his voice, hushed though it is, startling her. "Happy New Year." He gestures to the muted display of his watch, and indeed, she can see that the hands are pointed to approximately one minute after midnight. His smile is soft when he catches her eye, and she returns both his words and his expression.

There are lines on his face, of exhaustion or age or stress she doesn't know, but she unexpectedly aches to lift her hand and smooth the evidence of his pain away. Maybe it's the fatigue, maybe it's the way she feels like they're the only two people in the world right now, but she is doing just that before she can stop herself. She's forgetting the case, the stakeout, Jake and Hannah, and her fingertips brush over his temple and down until his cheek rests in the cradle of her palm. He exhales, his breathe appearing in a white cloud between them, and she swears he's leaning toward her, but then his fingers encircle her wrist and seconds later, he tucks her hand back into her own pocket and turns away.

"What does your new boyfriend think about you working tonight?" She recognizes his deflection, his attempt to put the distance back between them, but all she can do is sigh and fix her gaze back on the still-deserted shack.

"He's not my boyfriend," she says quietly, speaking the truth. Besides the night of their first date, she and Jake have kissed a handful of times, but they have yet to sleep together, though this is a fact she is definitely not going to reveal to Booth. She's afraid he'll ask why, and she's even more afraid that she'll tell him and he won't like the answer.

Well, _one_ of the answers.

She's done the one night stand, the dating two men at once, the casual fling, but not since Sully (her partner aside, of course) has she felt anything remotely resembling what she feels for Jake. If she's honest with herself, she doesn't want to screw this up, though she seems to be doing just that. Thoughts of Jake naturally lead her to thoughts of relationships, which results in her questioning his girlfriend's whereabouts when Booth gratefully chooses not to respond to her words.

Her heart stops beating and her stomach drops to her feet when he replies, "She's gone." A flash of foolish hope followed quickly by guilt rushes through her, but he adds, "South Korea until next Tuesday," and she covers with a noncommittal sound as an answer.

Gone, but coming back.

After that, she closes herself off, feeling irrationally angry at Booth for reasons she doesn't want to investigate right now. She knows that Sweets would describe her anger as projected, would call her out and tell her that she should examine her feelings toward herself more closely, but she shakes this thought away and focuses on staying alert.

This is a good move on her part, because all too soon, the tell-tale sound of an engine approaching makes Booth push her bodily behind him. A green pickup pulls to a stop in front of the shack, and a man gets out. When he moves to the bed and hauls something forward, heavy by the way he's straining, it takes mere moments for them to see the shine of a head of blonde hair matted with blood. This is all the evidence Booth needs, and he's yelling and running, drawing his gun with her hot on his heels.

The man is taken unaware, and he stares dumbly at the approaching partners before some sense returns. He abandons the body in the truck bed, taking off through the woods with speed rare for a man of his size. Booth doesn't flinch, though he orders, "Temperance, stay here!" before he disappears into the night. She has no intention of obeying him, but she pauses long enough to check the pulse of the girl. Taking a deep breath to calm her own racing pulse, she realizes that the body is cold. The girl is dead, and as she confirms this with the absence of heartbeat, a shot rings out from the direction where her partner had gone to give chase.

A different kind of chill races through her, and she's creaming his name, "Booth!" over and over again, ignoring the thought that if he is shot, perhaps her wisest course of action should be to insure that the man would not find her and shoot her as well. Her feet are flying, and she blindly stumbles through the trees, disregarding the sting of the brambles that pull at her face and hair.

She flies through a copse of bushes, realizing too late that the ground has vanished out from under her. She's falling then, her momentum sending her reeling down the sharp slope that ends in a suspiciously smooth expanse of snow. Rolling, she lands flat on her back, staring up at the night sky with the breath knocked out of her lungs, and a quick inventory tells her that thankfully, nothing is broken. She scrambles to her hands and knees, wheezes, and contemplates vomiting, but a rustling sound from right about where she'd gone over the edge makes her inhale and hold it as she listens closely.

"Bones, is that you?"

His face appears through the foliage, and she's never been more relieved to see anybody in her entire life. He seems well, at least not dead, and she clamors unsteadily to her feet, contemplating how she's going to scale the bank to reach his side. "Booth! You're okay. What… the shot?"

She stutters the question, and he replies that he'd shot at the man but apparently missed and, worried that the stranger may circle back to the shack and surprise her from behind, he'd abandoned the chase. He'd followed her yelling and the rather obvious trail she'd blazed through the forest to find her.

"Do you think you can climb back up here?" He sounds doubtful, and she takes a step toward him, opening her mouth to reassure them both that she's capable. She can't get the words out though, because suddenly, her feet are falling out from under her again, and she realizes too late that what she'd thought was a small clearing is actually a small frozen body of water that is apparently no longer frozen enough to sustain her weight.

This time, Booth is the one screaming _her_ name, the last thing she sees before she closes her eyes is the spray of snow, dirt, and leaves as he slides down the slope toward her.


	10. Chapter 10:  Heartbeat of Man

**Heartbeat of Man**

**A/N: **I'm not particularly happy with this section, so think of it as more of a filler than anything, and I apologize for the wait. I'm pretty sure I finally know where this is going, so bear with me. Thank you so much for all the reviews! Please keep letting me know what you're thinking. Any suggestions, criticisms, etc. are taken with the utmost appreciation. 

**

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**She's not going to drown.

The water is arctic, instantly numbing, but she's not going to drown.

She can feel the bottom of the river, lake, puddle, _whatever_ it is that she's submerged in. Her legs are like dead weights though, and it takes her a few precious seconds to push herself to the surface. She's standing, sputtering and coughing, wiping at her blind eyes with the back of her hand. The water reaches the middle of her upper arms, and her teeth begin to chatter violently almost at once.

"Bones!" Instinct makes her turn her head in the direction of her name, and her blurry mind puts the voice to the face after a terrifying delay. "C'mon Bones, give me your hand." She struggles to obey the command, some smidgen of the scientist not knocked out by shock telling her that it is important that he not have to come into the ice cold after her. Luckily, she is relatively close to the edge, close enough that when she manages to extend her arm, Booth yanks her to safety.

She's leaning against him as he kneels, her feet still in the water, and he bodily hauls her to stand despite the protest from her muscles. "Let go," she murmurs, but when she pushes him away, her knees buckle and only his arm around her keeps her from collapsing back to the ground. She wants to sit down, to lie down and go to sleep, but he won't let her. Together, they stumble around the edge of the water to the other side, having abandoned all thoughts of retracing their steps now. Booth is talking to her, but her brain can't piece together individual words into coherent sentences. The shaking is beginning to start now, and she sees the calm and cool collection in her partner's eyes as he pulls her crossed arms apart and slides her jacket from her body.

She realizes two things at that moment: one, that Booth is undressing her, and two, that she doesn't particularly care as long as it helps to warm her up. His fingers fumble with the tiny buttons on her blouse, but he peels the fabric carefully apart. Together, they struggle with her boots, socks, and jeans until she is standing half-naked before him. He shucks his own jacket and t-shirt, using the latter to squeeze the water from her hair before tossing it aside. On autopilot now, she lurches forward, and slides her arms around his body, pressing her torso to his, relishing in the warmth radiating from his bare chest. He slips his trench back around his own shoulders, and his arms come together around her, cocooning her in a world of Booth.

She blinks sleepily and ducks her head beneath his chin, the steady pounding of his heartbeat lulling her into a daze. It's surprising how quickly the shivering eases, though her teeth still clatter together harshly. From somewhere above her, she hears Booth conversing on his cell phone, relaying their approximate location and describing the failed chase and what they'd found at the shack.

She holds him tighter as the numbing cold begins to give way to the worst pins and needles she's ever had. As the feeling returns to her limbs, it's as though she's on fire, and she can't stop the tears from falling as her body burns in protest of the returning circulation to her limbs. Booth pulls back to look at her, startled by the violence of her half-muffled sobs.

"Bones, you with me?" He sounds so concerned, and the hilarity of their current situation soon has her chuckling through her tears and wiping at her eyes as the water drips from the ends of her hair into her face. "This isn't funny! What's wrong with you?" Alarmed by her apparent lapse in sanity, he grabs her shoulders and shakes her gently, which only makes her laugh harder.

"Nothing's wrong with me. I'm fine, Booth," she wheezes, crossing her arms, Booth's coat still draped over her body. "I promise, don't look so worried."

This is the wrong thing to say. She's seen him angry many times, but never before has his anger been directed at her. She involuntarily takes a step back as his eyes darken, the muscles in his upper body tensing when he balls his hands into fists at his sides. "Don't look so _worried_? Are you kidding me, Temperance? What were you thinking taking off like that in the dark with no weapon, no backup, nothing? I think this is it, you've finally lost your mind," he concludes, releasing his breath on a brutal exhale.

Before he can berate her any further, she stops him with a terse hand to his chest. Ignoring the hypocrisy of his words, she sounds eerily composed even to her own ears when she agrees with him. "You're right. I lost my mind. I heard a shot and was illogically and momentarily blinded by panic for my partner. It won't happen again," she murmurs.

She notices that Booth looks somewhat abashed before she turns away, hugging herself and shifting from foot to foot in an attempt to keep from freezing. His gentle touch on the back of her neck, his fingers pushing her damp hair aside, makes her jump, but his quiet voice when he says, "I'm sorry, Bones, I was scared," relaxes her against his body once again.

"So was I." She has a feeling they're apologizing for more than this small argument, but the subtext and veiled feelings evaporate when they hear the crunching of boots that announce the arrival of the paramedics.

Having been previously briefed on her condition by Booth, they waste no time in ushering her from his side, replacing the trench with a warming blanket and woolen socks and asking her inane questions such as her name, the date, and who the President is. Rather than being belligerent, she answers them quickly, reassuring the EMTs that she has no lasting repercussions from her dip in the arctic. Sliding her feet back into water-logged boots, she blatantly refuses to go to the hospital, insisting that her core temperature has risen and receiving confirmation that there is no danger from hypothermia or frostbite. Booth doesn't look so sure, but when she narrows her eyes, daring him to challenge her, he shrugs and links their arms together.

They stumble behind the paramedics, taking a short route through the woods that brings them out onto the highway where they'd left the SUV so many hours ago. No longer deserted, there are a plethora of law enforcement vehicles scattered here and there, lights blinking, and almost at once, Booth is ushered away to be questioned. Before he goes, he presses his keys to her palm, muttering, "There are clothes in my bag, I'll be back soon."

Taking this as a hint, she retrieves an old sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, dropping the blanket and swiftly donning the warm clothing with little heed to the people around her. She climbs into the SUV and starts it, turning on the heat full blast. She's nodding off, succumbing to her exhaustion, when the driver's door opens and Booth slides in beside her.

"I shot him, Bones. They found bleeding from the leg, but alive, and he confessed to everything." She listens as he relays details to her, about evidence and motive, but her brain is too tired to process all of the information. They'll have to be questioned and debriefed tomorrow, but right now, all she wants to do is go home and go to sleep. Booth seems to realize this, and the last thing she hears before total oblivion is his voice on the phone with Jake, asking him to meet them at her apartment in a half hour.

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**A/N: **Coming up... Brennan and Jake have a conversation about their relationship, and Hannah approaches Brennan with an important question.


	11. Chapter 11:  Angel's Flight

**Angel's Flight**

**A/N: **The next part, for your reading pleasure. It ended up taking on a life of its own, an though this isn't necessarily exactly how I wanted this to go, I feel that it fits with the rest of the story. Leave a review, let me know! Thanks for all your support and kind words.

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Hours later, when she's finally awoken by the glare of sunlight peeking through her bedroom blinds, she's groggy and disoriented. The first thing she realizes is that she can't move. A heavy weight lies across her legs and an arm rests across her midsection, both mysterious bodies doing their part to pin her in place. She shifts and manages to pull her feet free, which has the effect of waking one of her bed partners, Otto, and causing the other to tighten his (she feels the male presence) grip and mumble in his sleep. Otto, glad to see that she's awake, snuffles up to her face and immediately gives her a wet kiss, tail thumping against the mattress. She's irrationally pleased to see the Shepherd and takes comfort from his enthusiastic welcome, ruffling his fur and scratching behind his ears.

From her side, Jake's voice is sleep-roughened when he says, "Welcome back, T," in greeting and presses a less sloppy kiss to her cheek. Her body aches when she rolls toward him, ending up eye to eye, and only then does she remember her stakeout with her partner and her near-hypothermia.

"What happened? Where's Booth?" She's still tired, but not enough to miss the flicker of hurt that passes over his features, and she scrambles to save herself by clarifying, "I mean, the last thing I remember is being in the car with him…" She trails off, and Jake smooths down the lines of question that must have appeared on her forehead.

"Yeah, he called me this morning, asked me to meet you guys here. He told me what happened." His tone informs her that he'd like her to elaborate, to explain just how she managed to end up soaking wet and shivering in her partner's arms, but she can't find the energy to reassure him right now.

Instead, she extracts herself from the bed, Otto following automatically. A quick glance at the clock tells her that it's nearly four in the afternoon, and she decides to humor the drooling dog and give him his dinner early so that she and Jake can talk in peace. In two minutes, she's back, and she closes the bedroom door behind her. Though she's still wearing Booth's spare clothing, the air in the room is cool, and she slides back under the blankets and curls into Jake's side, her breath an exhale against his neck.

"I'm still in love with him," she reveals quietly, avoiding his gaze. It's ironic that the first time she speaks these words aloud, she's in the arms of another man, one whom she cares greatly about. She isn't sure what kind of reaction she expects, but it certainly isn't his hushed chuckle.

"I know, T, I know."

"I don't think we should see each other anymore."

When she looks up at him, up at how he's smiling, even now, she can do nothing else but kiss him. Her heart pounds in her chest, and she kisses him and doesn't stop until their clothes are scattered around the room and he's gasping her name into her neck.

Afterward, tangled together, he discloses his own secret. He tells her about his wife, dead two years. He tells her about the accident, and she holds him as he holds back tears. He tells her he's still in love with her, and she wonders, "Why, then?" in regards to his reasons for approaching her in the bar what seems like forever ago now.

"Because I thought you were beautiful. You _are_ beautiful. I guess it was too soon, huh?"

She smiles through her own tears, pondering this twisted fate that Booth so believes in. Two lost and broken souls, both grieving, both loving unrequited, had found each other, and out of their combined heartache, each of them had emerged still hurting, but maybe, just maybe, a little bit healed as well.

A little bit ready to love and be loved again.

"I'm sorry, Jake. I wish it could be different." She's not sure what exactly it is she wishes could be different. She'd be lying if she told him she wishes they could be together, because she realizes now that her metaphorical heart has already been taken, and no ruse of moving on can ever change that solid, unbreakable fact. "We were just wasting time."

At this, he tips her chin up and kisses her sweetly, brushing her matted bangs from her eyes. "We can't waste time, T, only ourselves." He is so philosophical, so kind to her, and she has no answer but to shake her head and press her body tighter against his.

Once again, exhaustion overcomes her, and when she wakes, this time in total darkness, she finds that Otto has replaced Jake. She blinks into the night, sighs, and lays her cheek to the Shepherd's furry shoulder, wondering where to go from here.

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**A/N: **Next chapter, Hannah and Brennan talk... duh duh dun.


	12. Chapter 12:  Voyage Quest

**Chapter 12: Voyage Quest**

**A/N: **The talk. I'd really like to know what you think of this part, so leave a word or two and know that any feedback will be appreciated. This part's a bit longer and, most likely, is the second or third to last chapter, depending on how the rest of this story translates from my head to the page. As always, thanks for the reviews, I love getting them! Now, read on!

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"Temperance?"

It is the middle of the morning, and she's sitting at her desk finishing up the report on the three victims from their case last week. Turning her head at the sound of her name, she sees Hannah in the office doorway, hovering until she smiles and beckons her in to sit for a moment. She saves the documents on her computer before joining the report on the couch, giving her a genuine hug in greeting.

Hannah had only recently returned, and so it seems natural for her to ask, "How was South Korea?" before inquiring as to the purpose of her visit. To her surprise, the other woman stiffens slightly at her simple attempt at small talk, so she falls silent and waits for Hannah to gather her thoughts.

"We'll get to that in a minute. First, are you okay? Seeley told me about your, uh… _swim_."

Grimacing, she assures Hannah that she's fine, self-consciously adjusting the collar of her shirt. Though they are beginning to fade, the scratches and bruises from her tumble down the hill still adorn her chest, face, and arms, and she's well-aware that she looks worse than she feels.

The two exchange pleasantries, enjoying the lull of mid-morning, but she can sense that the blond is talking around the true meaning for her visit. "Why are you here, Hannah?" she blurts, not impolitely, but stern enough to force the journalist into revelation.

"They want me back on assignment."

Her heart jumps, but she remains outwardly composed. "How long?"

"Indefinitely." Hannah leans back into the couch, closing her eyes. "At least a year, probably longer."

It's clear from the woman's tone that advice is wanted, but she's momentarily frozen. Her mind and her heart are at war, and she sits silently beside Hannah as she struggles to find words. She wants desperately to tell the journalist to take the assignment, that Booth will be waiting for her when she comes back, but the part of her that is Booth's very best friend knows he would be devastated to see his girlfriend go. The scientist in her, for once, agrees with the heart in her, albeit for different reasons. Would Hannah be able to stand giving up the chance at a great story to stay with Booth? She herself had chosen Maluku over D.C., anthropology over her partner, and would give anything for another chance to go back and decide differently.

At last, she mirrors Hannah's posture, crosses her arms over her chest, and says, "I can't tell you what to do. You have to decide this on your own." When in doubt, defer.

"I know." The blond sighs and stands. "Thanks anyway, Temperance."

As she watches the other woman leave, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, she realizes that she can't _not_ say anything, and before she can stop them, the words come out uncensored, from the heart .

"Stay. You should stay." She clears her throat. "Booth _loves_ you. Don't make the same mistake I did."

Hannah pauses only briefly in the doorway but doesn't look back.

She sits on the couch, listening to the goings-on of the lab for what seems like hours. A time or two, one of her interns pokes a head in and asks a question, and she responds on autopilot. Finally, after turning away both Cam and Hodgins with an _I'm fine_ that sounds anything but, the cavalry arrives in the form of the latter's wife. "Sweetie?" Angela wastes no time, though her pregnant body is moving slower these days.

She considers giving the artist the same answer, but her friend has always known her too well to let her get away with it. "I don't want to talk about it," she says instead, uncrossing her arms at last.

"Is this about Booth? I saw Hannah in here."

Knowing that Angela won't let it go until she gets some sort of answer, she nods and shrugs her shoulders, the corner of her mouth lifting in a wry half-smile. "It always is, Ange." Her expression wavers, and she wills herself not to cry. Angela, rather than pry the details out of her, simply folds her into her arms, and they sit side-by-side, ignoring the rest of the world for a while.

When she feels like she can go back to work without losing it, she shrugs out of her friend's grasp and returns to her desk, clicking her mouse to wake up her desktop. Her email program pops up, alerting her to several new deliveries since she'd been interrupted by Hannah's earlier visit. She skims these, dismissing all but one as unimportant. The newest catches her attention, and she clicks to open the body of the message.

Skimming the text once, twice, three times, she doesn't realize she's staring in shock until Angela, who must have seen her expression, rolls her desk chair slightly to the side and reads the words over her shoulder. "Oh, Bren, what does this mean?" the artist wonders, wide-eyed.

"I have… I don't… I don't know. _I don't know_, Angela."

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**A/N: **Cliffhanger! No spoilers for the next chapter, I don't want to give it away.


	13. Chapter 13:  Hope Always

**Chapter 13: Hope Always**

**A/N: **This is the last chapter, folks. In celebration of Bones Day, I chose not to split this up, so enjoy the length. I doubt that I'll continue, but if so, subsequent parts will be independent of this story. I'd like to thank everyone for your support, I really appreciate every word of every review. Take a second to let me know what you think of my resolution!

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The knock on her door draws her reluctantly from her bed, leaving a sleeping Otto to lie. There are only a handful of people who would dare to wake her up at this hour of the night, and tonight, she is unsure who she will find on the other side. Rather than opt for surprise, she looks through the peephole, squinting to make out the features of her midnight visitor.

It's Booth. It's always been him.

She sighs, rests her forehead against the wood of the door, her hand hovering over the knob with indecision. She isn't sure if she has the will to have this conversation with him now, but not once has she ever turned him away, so she steels herself and unbolts the lock, letting the door swing open.

The first thing she notices is that he looks… tired. He's wearing street clothes, the first couple of buttons undone on his shirt. His hair is disheveled, his eyes bloodshot, and she ushers him inside without a word, her hand on his arm to steer him to the couch. She knows why he's here, but she's fairly certain, given the look on his face, that he doesn't know that she knows.

"Hannah left," he says after a moment.

Her brain fails to censure her mouth, and she replies automatically, "Yes, I'm aware of that."

His eyebrows disappear into his hairline as he gapes at her, and she leans away from him, expecting some sort of surprised questioning as to how, exactly, she's come to posses that knowledge. She's still as he studies her face, eyes passing over her features again and again. He must see something that calms him, though, for he relaxes back into the couch and sighs.

"How?" he wonders, and she sits for a moment before responding.

"She came and saw me, asked me what she should do."

She can tell that he's upset with her revelation, and she visibly cringes when he spits, "I'm sure you told her to go, right? That she couldn't pass up the story? That work was more important than me?" His voice is more worn than angry, but his words make her pause as she reads, for once, the subtext beneath his blatant lashing out.

Her eyes fill with tears, and there is no hesitation when she says, "No, Booth. I told her to stay." His gaze softens immediately, searches her own, and she continues, "I told her that you love her and that she shouldn't… she shouldn't make the same mistake I did."

She's not sure what he will do now, what she _wants_ him to do now, and so she falls silent as the first teardrop rolls down her cheek. These are not tears of sadness, no. These are tears of revelation, tears of relief that she finally knows how to fix this, how to fix them by revelations. Abruptly, she rises from the couch, leaving Booth staring after her as she disappears into her bedroom.

When she returns after a moment, a piece of folded paper clutched tightly in her fist, and sits next to him once again. "She left anyway, so you must not have been very convincing," Booth mumbles to her, brow furrowed as he tries to read the expression on her face.

Taking a deep breath, she dives in headfirst. "That's because she saw my words for what they really were." When he tilts his head in question, she appends, "A declaration of selfless love."

Though she hasn't said those three words, Booth gets her meaning immediately, and she watches as a range of emotions sweep over his features one after the other. He takes her hand, and she's so close that she can feel his exhales, see the pinpricks of gold in his warm brown eyes. His voice, his quiet, "You love me?" makes her shake with _something_, and she nods, voice lost for a moment.

"Of course I do, Booth. That's always been true." With that confession, she unfolds the paper still clasped in her free fist. Smoothing out the wrinkles, she hands it to her partner. "I was scared. Scared to let you in, because I was so sure that you would leave. I didn't think about you leaving anyway."

She isn't worried with her blatant admissions, not anymore. There's no worry of letting herself fall in love and then losing him, no dread of the future. There's no worry because it has all already happened. This vulnerability is nothing compared to the pain of regret. Another time, she may have held everything back, protected herself just in case, but just in case doesn't seem to matter much anymore.

"Bones, I –"

"Read it. Please." She gestures to the printed paper, the email that had shocked her to the core, opened up the door for them to be here right now.

He obliges, and she passes her eyes over the now familiar words:

_Temperance,_

_I know you told me I should stay, but I just can't. _

_Thank you for being such a friend to me. I appreciated your kindness, more than you probably realize. Please, don't talk to Seeley until I've had the chance to break the news. I just booked my flight and I'll be telling him over dinner tonight. He's in meetings all day, and I'm guessing that means I'll see him first, so you shouldn't have to lie. It's up to you whether or not you want to tell him that you knew before he did. _

_You said that Seeley loves me, and I know he does, but it doesn't hold a candle to the way he feels about you. He's so in love with you, Temperance. It's funny, because you are two people who don't belong together except that you _belong together_. I can't be the one to stand in the way of that anymore. I hope you forgive me for that and for hurting him. I'm sorry. But don't forget to forgive him, too. _

_Hannah_

When he finishes reading, he refolds the letter and reaches to place it on the coffee table in front of them. There is a long silence, and then he murmurs, "I _am_, Bones." At her puzzled look, he clarifies, "So in love with you." His mouth turns up into a smile, and he presses a gentle kiss to the corner of hers.

"I forgive you. Forgive me?" she implores.

He shakes his head. No apologizes or forgiveness necessary.

Breaking the comfortable silence, he questions out of the blue, "Do you believe in fate?"

"Booth, this is the same story." She runs her fingertips over his knuckles.

"No, this is the _rest_ of the story. Our story. Now answer the question, Bones."

She obliges. "Still ludicrous," she says, smiling.

Some things never change, but some things do.

Listening to her heart, that crushable muscle in her chest that feels whole for the first time in months, she takes a gamble that really isn't a gamble at all.

"But I believe in giving this a chance."

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**A/N: **The last few lines of dialogue I've had in mind for a while. I'm sad to part with this story, but I enjoyed the ride, and I hope you did too!


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